


The Night Before

by paperbackwriterfromnowhere



Category: Help! (1965), The Beatles
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackwriterfromnowhere/pseuds/paperbackwriterfromnowhere
Summary: [ Anon McLennon prompt: "The Night Before" ] John and Paul have a night of drunken sex, after which, John panics and gives Paul the cold shoulder until Paul finally confronts him about it.





	

They’re drunk. _Fuck,_ they’re **so** drunk. John’s hands tug hard at Paul’s tie and Paul ends up in tucks, laughing so hard he's nearly crying. Why he finds this so amusing is beyond John who growls and pulls his white button down open, the buttons clattering to the floor. Paul calms down, a breathy _Oh_ leaving his kiss swollen lips. John struggles to get his own tie undone, something that should not be as difficult as this is proving to be. He mutters curses under his breath and Paul takes the older man’s face in his hands and kisses him softly. “Shh, shh, Johnny… always so bloody awful with these things,” he teases, easily pulling off the offending garment and dropping it on the floor of their shared hotel room.

They shouldn’t be doing this, but then again, that’s part of the allure. The whole _taboo_ thing that John really gets off on. Paul’s new to this, though. They’ve never crossed the line they did tonight. John’s got at least some experience with men (thanks to the Reeperbahn for that) , and he’s fantasized about every possible outcome of this scene right now with Paul’s lips sliding against his, both reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. After some fumbling, both stand shirtless, belts undone, breaths heavy. John licks his lips and Paul does the same, eyes locking onto John’s gaze. 

“You sure you wanna do this, Paulie?” John asks, taking a moment despite his throbbing cock that’s screaming for attention.

Paul nods, smiling, kissing him to reassure him, a hand threading into the back of John’s hair. “Yeah, Johnny… I’m sure… I’m so sure.”

John grins, kissing him again as he works to undo the younger man’s pants, pushing them and his underwear down as fast as he can, Paul echoing the motions. 

_There’s no coming back from this,_ Paul thinks, emotions swirling around his head as he wraps a hand carefully around John’s cock, stroking it slowly. They both let out a low moan, John’s hand already making quick work of stroking Paul’s dick, the pad of his thumb brushing over his head, another soft moan at the feel of precum there.

“Paul,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna fuck me?” John asks. It’s not something that anyone has ever done, and he wants the first person to be Paul. ~~He always has.~~

“Y-yeah… yeah, I think I do,” he says, words slurring. Paul’s hips are pushing into John’s seemingly expert touch, and he can barely think about anything else. The thought of fucking John, though… _fuck._ He’s thought about it both ways, of course (they both have), but he didn’t expect him to offer that up right off the bat. “You gotta help me a bit… tell me what to do, Johnny,” he breathes against John’s lips, his teeth capturing the other’s bottom one, sliding gently back with a soft chuckle.

“Anything for you, Macca,” John whispers back, his lips finding Paul’s neck, fingers dipping to gently cup his balls before he’s stroking him again. “First ya gotta get me arse ready fer ya,” he smirks, the Scouse in him coming out thanks to the alcohol. It's too hard to concentrate on speaking proper. John takes Paul’s hand in his, bringing two fingers up to his mouth. He licks Paul’s fingertips slowly, then takes his fingers into his mouth like he learned how to do in Hamburg, sucking on them as though it was his cock. Paul moans, eyes fixed on John’s perfect mouth, on the way his fingers disappear, only to reappear with a sheen of saliva. He swears he can feel the exact same sensation on his cock. After a few moments, John lets Paul’s fingers slip out of his mouth and moves to the bed with a cheeky grin, lying on his side and curling his finger in a come hither motion.

Paul instantly obeys with a moan, jumping onto the bed and pressing his naked body against John’s with a whole nother set of moans. John’s eyes search Paul’s and he smiles, laughing a little even. They’ve both wanted this for so fucking long and now the time has finally come. John sighs dreamily, pressing a kiss to the tip of Paul’s nose and then lies on his back, spreading his legs open, his own hand wrapped around and stroking his cock. 

Following John's instructions, one then two fingers are worked into the older man slowly. He doesn't want to hurt John, but he's a little less careful than he normally would be. It's okay because John is a little more drunk than he'd normally be. In just a few minutes, John is fucking himself on Paul's fingers, curses spilling from his lips in between sloppy, needy kisses. 

“Please, Paulie… get yer cock in me,” John whimpers (something he'd never admit to, of course!).

Paul nods, wondering how he could get himself slicked up, catching the jar of Vaseline from the corner of his eye on the nightstand. He nearly falls off the bed to get it, but he manages, and puts way too much on himself, looking for something to wipe his hand off with. Deciding on the sheet as John impatiently writhes and pouts under him, he wipes his hand off before getting it all over his hand again as he positions himself (laughing because he just spent all that time cleaning off his hand and now it’s covered in the stuff again) and pushes into him. 

It's so tight, Paul might as well have been socked in the gut, all the air suddenly gone from his lungs. John’s spitting curses and moaning, his body trying to acclimate to this intrusion. That’s when Paul starts to roll his hips. It feels so fucking good that neither of them can believe it's real. John clutches at Paul’s back, pulling him closer, finding the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss as his legs wrap around the bassist’s waist and keep him close. 

“Fuck, Paulie…” he breathes out against Paul’s perfect lips. Paul responds with a long, low moan-- he’s at a loss for words (a position he does not normally find himself in, being a writer and a hopeless romantic all in one).

Their bodies move together, slick with sweat and neither of them can keep their hands from wandering over the other’s body. Paul watches as John grabs his cock and starts to stroke himself as curse after curse tumble over his lips. The younger man can hardly stand all of this at one time. He pushes John’s hand out of the way, taking over because _fuck_ he needs to do this. He needs to feel John’s cock in his hand, he needs to watch as John falls the fuck apart by nothing else but **Paul’s** touch. 

Normally, John can outlast them all, but fuck if that familiar feeling isn’t threatening to take over his entire being. A tightly wound coil of absolute pleasure building and building with every thrust, every stroke that Paul is giving him. His back arches and Paul hits a spot that makes John cry out in absolute bliss. 

“There! Right there! Oh fucking Christ, Paul!” 

Paul, more excited and turned on more than ever, tries his very best to hold on. He wants to be sure he keeps hitting this spot until John cums-- he’s never wanted anything more than to watch this. Harder, harder, faster… the sound of his balls slapping against John’s skin amidst the moans, grunts, and curses are the only sounds filling the room. Paul’s breathing is heavy and he’s trying, _fuck_ he’s trying so damn hard to hold on, to wait for John.

“Johnny, please… cum for me… I wanna watch,” he whimpers out, knowing he can’t hold his own orgasm back for much longer. “Fuck…” 

Paul’s words draw him closer still, only a few more hard thrusts from Paul and John’s back arches more, off the bed, screaming out Paul’s name surrounded by expletives as he cums harder than he ever has before, Paul immediately following him, not even able to pull out from his lover.

The pair collapses on the bed, a mess of cum and sweat, and Paul lies his head on John’s heaving chest. 

“Fuck,” John breathes, wiping at his face. He’s dripping with sweat, but neither of them care.

“Mmm…” is all Paul can muster in reply.

The alcohol, by this point, has dulled in its effect that led them here all giggly and slurred. John licks his lips and covers his eyes with his forearm. Did he make a mistake asking for this? This isn’t something that can continue to happen. There’s already rumours about him and Eppy. He can’t let on that he’s so close to Paul-- that they fucked. He pushes these thoughts out as Paul looks up at him, wide-eyed, face flushed, and with a smile that melts John’s heart.

“That was amazing,” the younger one whispers.

“Yeah,” John smiles, eyes searching Paul’s. He's close enough that John doesn’t even have to squint. He can see all those cute little freckles and he swallows thickly. “It really was.” He’s speaking the truth, but he knows that this can’t go on. It can’t become a regular thing. “Cyn’s waiting for me…” he says after moments of silence. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he can’t stay. He also can't look at Paul after he's said that. He knows he'll only see hurt.

~~John knows he's already fallen in love with Paul.~~

The next few days, John’s comments and actions are biting and harsh. He’s cold and it makes him so mad that he can't behave the way he wants to. That he can't push Paul up against a wall and have a quick snog whenever he wants. He avoids Paul’s eyes (and his face, really) because to see him looking so hurt would be too much for John. He never meant to hurt Paul at all.

It’s during this time that two songs are penned for the upcoming album (and film) they’re working on; _You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away_ and _The Night Before_.

The first time John hears Paul’s song, Ringo and George are in the room, too. He stares at Paul for a moment, shaking his head and walks out. Paul rolls his eyes and follows him into the hallway where John’s aggressively smoking a cigarette.

“What the fuck do you want?” the older man asks.

“You didn’t have to run out like that, y’know?”

“What was I supposed to stand there and tell you it’s great? Tell you that it really fuckin’ speaks to me? What the fuck do you want me to say about it, Paul?”

“For starters, an apology maybe?” he says, his voice small and soft.

John stares at Paul for a second and then focuses back on the spot on the wall where the paint’s peeling.

“So I’m nothin’ more than just another fuck for you, huh?”

John laughs out loud, looking down as his head shakes. He takes a long drag from the cig and blows the smoke out slowly before answering. “You know you’re not.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“Then look at me, John. Tell me I’m not! All you’ve done is treat me like some bird you shagged to take your mind off Cyn! You won’t even _talk_ to me lately! What am I supposed to think?”

John, of course, had not been thinking about Paul’s feelings. He hadn’t thought that Paul was having just as hard a time as he was with this. He chews at his bottom lip for a moment. Another drag. “What do you want me to say? It’s not like we can be together. It’ll end The Beatles. It’ll destroy us… and…” he pauses for a moment, looking up at Paul finally, locking onto his gaze. “It just can't happen."

“I don’t **care**. I just want to-- it’s just that… I mean… you see, I’ve sort of been… for a long time now… what I’m trying to say is that I’ve… well… it’s just that… y’know… I thought things had sort of changed between us that night. In- in a good way! And… I liked that change...“ Paul admits in a whisper, cheeks flushed bright red. 

The colour in his cheeks reminds John of how Paul had looked that night and his heart flutters as guilt nearly chokes him. John’s features soften, his heart melting all over again. “If things _did_ change that night… it would have to stay between us…”

Paul nods enthusiastically. “Of course... “

“And maybe I could make it up to you later tonight? If you’re not busy… and if we can slip away?”

“I would very much like that,” Paul smiles, turning to walk away, knowing he shouldn't get close to John or they could both be found out. He pauses, looking back over his shoulder, “Oh, and Lennon… tonight’s perfect.”

John watches as Paul walks away looking an awful lot like an excited little princess.

[ to be continued... maybe? ]


End file.
